


Desperate Needs

by samanddeansandwich



Category: Supernatural
Genre: BDSM, F/M, Other, Pegging, Sub!Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-04
Updated: 2014-01-04
Packaged: 2018-01-07 09:25:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1118239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samanddeansandwich/pseuds/samanddeansandwich





	Desperate Needs

Deep down, Dean craves approval. He may show the world his devil-may-care attitude, but he needs praise, he’s desperate for it. The chasm of choice bewilders him, leaves him feeling lost and confused without orders to follow, like a child crying for his mother. Maybe in some ways, he still is.

You know this about him, and you know why he comes to you. So as he kneels before you, hands bound behind his back and clad in your black lace thong, you know exactly what he needs. You stand before him, strong and unyielding, as you gently cup his face in your hands, softly tracing the outline of his chiseled jaw. You slap him — hard — with an open palm, and he turns his face in response but doesn’t wince. Instead, he looks up at you, emerald eyes dark and full of need, as he softly speaks, voice full of gravel: “Thank you Mistress. May I have another?”

A pleased smile creeps across your face, and Dean’s eyes instantly brighten at this sign of approval. “I don’t know, can you? You haven’t exactly been a good boy.” you say, knowing full well what the insinuation of Dean having been bad does to his psyche. He drops his head and whispers an almost inaudible “I’m sorry Mistress.” He’s so beautiful like this, so desperate and full of desire.

"Get up." you command, and Dean obeys, because he lives for having orders, needs it like the air he breathes. "Bend over," you demand, and Dean instantly bends over the end of the bed, arms still bound behind his back and thighs spread wide. You slowly peel the panties off him, and if he was beautiful kneeling earlier, this sight almost takes your breath away. Dean, open and vulnerable, exposed for you to use as you wish. You run your hand over his balls and up his crack, and he shivers at the gentle touch. You immediately contrast by landing an open palm on his ass, the sound echoing a sharp crack! through the motel room. The pleasure reverberates almost instantly through Dean’s body, as he grinds and bucks against the bed to feel some friction, any friction, on his throbbing cock.

"Not so fast," you chide him, and he stills instantly for fear that he may have displeased you. You continue to slide your fingers along his crack and over his opening, and he shudders each time you brush past. "You like that? Do you need something?" you ask, as you reach for the lube.

"Yes…" he whimpers.

"Yes what?" you demand, more sternly this time.

"Yes, Mistress. I like it." he replies, barely managing to choke out the words.

"What is it you want, Dean?" you love to hear him whimper and beg, especially since Dean is mortified to actually voice his need. But this is good for him, you know it is.

"Please, I need you to…I need you to fuck me. Please. Fill me. I need it so bad,” he begs, and it’s the sexiest thing you’ve ever heard. His voice is rough, hardened by years of rough living and whiskey, and his need is so raw, so genuine, that you can’t help but give him what he needs.

 

You slick his hole with lubed fingers, followed by your strap on as you slide into him in one swift motion. Sure it’ll burn a bit for him, but you know he likes it just like that, wants to know that he’s being claimed as you fuck into him, hard and rough. You grab a fistful of sandy brown hair and he arches up into you, making sounds so gorgeous and filthy that they just might make you faint. He knows not to touch himself, not unless you give him permission, so he clutches the motel bedspread with both hands, needing to come so badly because you’re hitting that spot, that sweet spot, over and over with each relentless thrust. He begs, incoherent and muttering strings of syllables that vaguely amount to “Please Mistress, please let me come”, and he’s been so good that you can’t help but give him what he needs. You lean down and softly whisper in his ear “come for me,” and he explodes all over the bedspread without ever having touched himself, falls apart underneath you spurt after spurt, until he finally collapses, numb with pleasure and satisfaction.

You hold him close and kiss him, whispering sweet words of praise to him because he’s earned it. “So good for me. You’ve done so good.” And you swear you maybe saw a tear well up in those pools of green, but it’s Dean and he’d never let you see it anyway, instead he just buries his head in the nape of your neck and kisses you, and you let him, because he’s earned it.


End file.
